


The Warrior Prince

by Tommykaine



Series: The Touch of Wolfsbane [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Courtship, Elf Culture & Customs, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommykaine/pseuds/Tommykaine
Summary: On the surface, the dance was a friendly gathering and a way to open their doors to nobles from other kingdoms and strengthen their bonds. But everyone knew the true reason behind it was that their princess Sylfel was of age for marrying and thus her parents were starting to look for a prince or princess that could give her an heir or carry hers.Thorandir had no illusions about why his father had sent him there. The prospective of uniting their reigns was an attractive one, and being a prince from high lineage he too had a chance of courting the princess.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Touch of Wolfsbane [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647925
Kudos: 2
Collections: COWT - Clash Of the Writing Titans/Chronicles Of Words and Trials





	The Warrior Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ForgottenLoveSong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenLoveSong/gifts).



The first time he saw her was at a royal dance.

Thorandir had not wanted to attend, but back then his father was still alive and he was his only living son.

Now the duties to carry on his family name were on him. He could no longer just think about battles and military strategies and leave such inane tasks in the hands of his older brother.

It had been kind of a cruel irony, that prince Arymir would die in battle while he would survive him. He had always thought it would be the other way around. Their father probably had shared that thought, the death of his firstborn a great blow to him.

So that was why he found himself riding towards the nearby kingdom, while deep down believing it would be a waste of time.

On the surface, the dance was a friendly gathering and a way to open their doors to nobles from other kingdoms and strengthen their bonds. But everyone knew the true reason behind it was that their princess Sylfel was of age for marrying and thus her parents were starting to look for a prince or princess that could give her an heir or carry hers.

Thorandir had no illusions about why his father had sent him there. The prospective of uniting their reigns was an attractive one, and being a prince from high lineage he too had a chance of courting the princess.

At least, on paper.

In truth, Thorandir knew all too well that he was not gifted with the same silver tongue nor the charisma of his brother. He was a man of war, more at ease with a sword in his hand than with a chalice filled with wine. He had pretty much no chance to impress a delicate princess that grew like a precious, sheltered flower among nobles of refined manners and tastes.

By the time he reached the palace, the dances had already started and his presence stirred murmurs among the crowd, both because of his lateness and because of his appearance.

Thorandir paid them no mind, marching inside with the same confidence and authority as when he strode in front of his soldiers. He was dressed in his finest silks and his long silver hair was tied up in a ponytail rather than in the usual tight braids pulled tightly behind his head. Even so, that did nothing to hide the scar that started from below his chin and split his lip at the side, nor the one on the other side of his face which started from the outer tip of his eyebrow and ended on his cheekbone. There were more of them, fainter and less visible against his pale alabaster skin, and many more hidden underneath his refined clothes.

He knew what the other nobles thought of him even without hearing their whispering and their jabs. He could only smirk to himself. Soft, pampered brats who knew nothing of the battlefield could never understand what it meant to fight alongside your own people, what it meant to truly be a leader. Of course he was out of place there. It was why he wouldn't have bothered to come in the first place had his father not commanded it.

Alas, he was in there and he would do his best not to shame his father's name. Plus, there were some good things to be found even in such a predicament. The delicious food, for example, and the finest of elvish wines filling cup after cup and rising everyone's spirits.

Thorandir partook in the banquet and in the wine, admired the view of the richly decorated palace and of the elaborate clothes of the dancers, and even attempted to exchange some pleasantries with some of the other nobles. Acquaintances of his family, mostly.

He learned about the recent coming of age of prince Mythil, who was even younger than princess Sylfel and looked as terrified as a wild deer as his father tried to push him towards the princess, insisting for him to show he was no longer a child but a fully-grown elf. He grinned as the brat paled and stammered as the beautiful princess approached him.

She looked as radiant as a star in her diamond-studded light blue dress, the color perfectly matching that of her eyes. She smiled kindly at the younger elf.

"Prince Mythil", she greeted him with a curtsy and then offered her hand to him for a dance.

Thorandir watched the unlikely duo as the young elf gathered his courage and guided her to the centre of the room to join the other dancers, the two elves gliding gracefully as if they had practiced a million times. He could not hear what they were saying but he could see that the young prince seemed to grow progressively less tense.

He shook his head and went to refill his cup with more wine. Even a brat like that had more chances with her than someone like him. It was frustrating but he couldn't be too mad. He was there for nothing, might as well find some enjoyable way to pass the time.

Speaking of which, he saw that a few noblewomen and even a few noblemen were eyeing him not with disdain but with interest, some of them smirking and winking at him as they saw him look back. He couldn't deny he was tempted to ignore his father's will and find some secluded corner in the palace, then see if any of those elves would be bold enough to follow him. But he knew he had obligations now. He represented his family, he had to show his integrity and his respect for traditions.

Thorandir did not know how much time had passed. His hunger was fully sated, he already had one too many cups of that wonderful wine and longed to get away from the heat and the idle chatter of the crowd, so he decided to sneak outside to get some fresh air and clear his head.

He finally found a nice balcony with a beautiful view on the immense garden of the castle so he stood by the edge made of marble and stared at the landscape in front of him, resting his arms on the cold surface.

He could still hear the music coming from inside, but it was much softer and did not make his head pound as much. What he did not hear were the soft footsteps that approached, so when a smaller figure suddenly appeared next to him he couldn't help but flinch and bring one hand to his hip, grasping on the handle of one of his daggers as he turned to face the unexpected company.

He relaxed as he recognized the princess, moving his hand away and feeling a hint of guilt from his instinctive reaction. What threat was expecting to appear in such a place? Still, his experience on the battlefield made him wary of such surprises, so that was why he'd been ready to attack.

"Your Highness", he greeted her with a small bow of his head, clasping his hand into a fist and placing it against his chest.

"Apologies, I did not mean to surprise you like that", the princess said, offering her hand to him and smiling as it was kissed. "I've never seen you before. Which kingdom did you come from?"

"I am now prince Thorandir of Kennyrlylth. You might have met my brother, Arymir".

"Oh!". A look of recognition appeared on her face, followed by a more embarrassed one. "My condolences. I have heard of the prince's demise. I did not know he had a brother".

Thorandir's lips curved up in a bitter smile.

"I never really attended these events. He was the one who would never miss one". He did not like to remember his brother, not in such a moment, so he tried to change the topic. "Is it ok for the princess to disappear during such a night? Who knows what sorts of rumors are spreading, right now".

The princess chuckled. "I grew tired of dancing. My feet hurt". She lifted the hem of her dress, ever so slightly, to show him the ornate and uncomfortable looking shoes they were squeezed in. "I also grew tired of the flattering and the flaunting. If I have to hear yet one more time about how my eyes 'look like precious sapphires' or my hair 'shines like spun gold', or about all the lands and riches that all of you princes own, I think I will devote my maidenhood to the Gods".

Thoranir almost chuckled. Almost.

"Well, Your Highness, you are in luck. I have no pretty words to give you, nor have ever learned how to dance". It seemed like a stupid admission, given how he'd accepted an invitation to a _royal dance_ , but that was the truth. If nothing else, at least it made her laugh.

"So you're not here to charm me with promises of gold and lands?", she asked, moving away from the edge and slowly twirling on the spot, the gems in her dress and hair shining like stars even in the fainter moonlight outside. "Do you not want to make me your queen?".

"Why, would you want to make me your king?", Thorandir asked, one corner of his lips curling up in amusement. "If I knew how to court you, I would, but that has never been my strong suit".

"Oh?". Sylfel stopped spinning. "And what _is_ your strong suit?"

Thorandir shrugged. "Commanding troops. Planning strategies. Killing my enemies before they can kill me".

Sylfel looked thoughtful.

"You are right. Maybe you should not be my king. You should be my faithful knight", she teased. "Would you protect your queen with your life, my knight?".

Thorandir couldn't help the smirk that finally spread on his lips. Maybe it was because of the wine making him forget his dignity, but he couldn't help but find the whole situation quite amusing.

"It would be my honor, Your Majesty", he said, falling down on one knee and once again hitting his chest with his closed fist. His smirk widened as the princess giggled, offering him her hand to help him get up.

As he stood up right in front of her, he could almost count every single of her pale eyelashes as her big blue eyes looked up into his grey ones. Despite everything, he felt his heart beat faster in his chest as her small hand still held his much rougher and calloused one. A hand made to hold a sword and not a princess.

She was so close, for a moment he could feel her breath against his skin, and he thought of doing something he shouldn't. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned towards the entrance.

"We should go back inside. Before someone starts thinking I've kidnapped you".

Her hand unexpectedly grabbed him, holding him back.

"Maybe you _should_ kidnap me", she joked. "So we could both get away from this torment".

Thorandir knew he shouldn't have humored her. Nothing would come out of it anyway. And yet, he turned again and pretended to be assorted in thought.

"Well, my father _did_ say to make an impression on your family", he said. "That would be one way of doing it".

Thorandir did not know how much time they spent talking out there, before one of Sylfel's servants finally managed to find her and insisted to guide her back outside, eyeing the foreign prince with suspicion.

The price sighed and waited for them to be gone for a while before making his way back inside, determined to avoid a scandal.

Still, once inside, his eyes went to search for her, who smiled as she encountered her gaze.

Thorandir told himself not to get strange ideas.

There was no way she would remember him as anything but a fun distraction to a boring evening.

Much time had passed since then.

Thorandir, now no longer prince but rather King of Kennyrlylth, made his way to the palace of that same nearby kingdom.

Princess Sylfel had grown since their encounter. If back then she'd been a beautiful flower that had just blossomed, now she was a rose in full bloom. Her blue eyes, instead, were unchanged. She had the same kind air about her, the same serene smile as she gazed upon him.

As for Thorandir, he bore the weight of more losses and the marks of more battles. But, this time, he did not march into another's kingdom to attack but rather to forge an alliance.

The air felt tense as he walked in. Everyone knew why he was there. He could feel the mistrustful and disapproving gazes of the nobles, but he did not care at all for their opinion.

This time, he had not come there just with some his guards for the travel but with enough elves to carry a small fortune of gems and silks.

He brought his tribute and told the king and queen he had come to show his devotion to the princess. He told them that he dreamed of a future where their lands were joined together.

Meanwhile, princess Sylfel said nothing but looked at him as if she waited for something.

Once they were left briefly alone so that he could speak to her more privately, the princess walked up to him and stood silent for a long while.

"You are not the first to court me, King Thorandir, nor the one who offered the most. Kings, princes and even affluent nobles, they've all asked for my hand. And they've asked again and again, no matter how many times I've refused", she finally said. "What would you do to show me you're any different?".

Thorandir's decor urged him to respond like a proper king should. Yet his lips curved up into a small smile and he couldn't hold back. "Your Highness, now that you told me I might just have to kidnap you, and get you away from that torment".

She giggled in response, and her smile was just as beautiful as the first time she'd graced him with it, her blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

And for once, the proud warrior king wished he had been more like his brother. That like him he could have had words to praise her beauty to let her know how many times she'd haunted his dreams, how despite the many centuries he never had truly forgotten her.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> I normally reply to all comments so if you do not wish for your comment to be replied to for any reason, please add "hush" somewhere in it and I will quietly appreciate it instead.


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